


Playing Dead

by orphan_account



Series: Lullabye [7]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidfic, M/M, ageshifting, also if you find ageplay creepy patrick turns into a legit child, not ageplay but you'll like it if you're into that, omg i'm getting so sick of tagging aaaa, pete looks after him, suspended disbelief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 21:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5681626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Pete passes out while taking care of Patrick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lollipops-and-Broken-Bones](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lollipops-and-Broken-Bones).



> moRE terrible titles (from the chvrches song), pointless fluff, badly written Andy and Joe, and vage OCs, WHAT?? prompt me or yell at me to write at saverockandsoulpvnk on tumblr - u can ask for my main blog too, but i don't like to just post it on here :) thanks for all the kudos and comments and prompts you guys are literally so sweet.
> 
> //please read the VERY beginning of part 1 of this series for context, after they all make sense by themselves//

 

Fall Out Boy's stint on Warped Tour was inconveniently timed for one particular member of the band, but he knew how good for the band it would be and wasn't about to say no when they were offered.

With his wild, optimistic enthusiasm and unending belief in the band, Pete agreed with Patrick immediately. Andy frowned but shrugged and said it should be Patrick's choice. Joe looked anxious when Andy offered no further resistance, but wasn't about to object on his own.

Most of Patrick's success at not getting into any trouble had been because no-one had the slightest clue who they were. Surely wandering around small in a place where almost everyone would recognise them from the band and wonder where Patrick was, and who the small child that looked like Patrick was, was pushing their luck.

Pete shrugged. "We'll stay inside, then. Or I'll drive us someplace further out."

***

They didn't actually do either of those things. They were _going_ to, but a band that Patrick was really into was going to be playing in the afternoon, and he still wanted to see them.  
"C'mon, Tricky, people will know who I am and it'll look weird. I'll take you to one of their shows another time?"  
Patrick pouted and clasped his hands together, eyes doubling in size, and that was the beginning of the end.

"Ugh, ' _Ricky_..." Pete groaned weakly, but Patrick just bit his lip, widened his eyes even further and amazingly, fluttered his eyelashes. Unsurprisingly, Pete caved.

"I don't even know if they'll let kids in. It might not be appropriate... I _know_ there's no age limit but if it's a certain kind of band then people might say something if I bring a five year old kid in," he added, when Patrick opened his mouth to protest.

Patrick just ignored the uncertainty and squealed in excitement. "Thank you, Petey, thank you! I was talking to the drummer and he said he'd get me sidestage and he'd be really disappointed if I didn't go and I want to see them play so bad and I can't wait to talk to him again - he's so good, Petey, honest, I'm gonna introduce you to-"  
"Patrick, kitten," Pete warned sadly, "You can't tell him it's you, you know that."

Patrick made a wistful little sound. "Oh, I guess not. It's okay, I'll talk to him tomorrow and say I was there but I had to go right after?"

"Okay, Stumps. We better get ready, huh? Where'd you put your other suitcase that we packed?"

  
Patrick seemed to disappear and re-appear instantly with the little orange suitcase that Pete had bought him a while ago for touring; nondescript enough that it wouldn't seem weird if people saw it but in Patrick's favourite colour so it wasn't completely boring for him. It was bulging alarmingly because Patrick was famously indecisive and had packed almost every stuffed toy he owned and way too many pairs of jeans.

"Okay, let's see what you've got..." Pete mumbled, peeling back the suitcase lid to an assault of furry creatures. One in particular, known as Petey Bear - used mainly as a comfort when Pete wasn't around for some reason or when Patrick was nervous, but also one of Patrick's all-round favourites - was picked up by Patrick as soon as he saw it and clutched to his chest. It was only about seven inches tall and was dark brown in colour, adored by Patrick. The number one spot, however, went to a stuffed cat named Pumpkin, who came from his mom when he was very young, and represented the pet he could never have due to his allergies.

Pete laughed when Patrick lifted his face out of Petey Bear's fluffy mass and looked up at him, blinking innocently. "Okay, squirt, what d'you wanna wear? Nuh- _uh_ , I'm picking your shoes, because you need something _sensible_."

  
Folding his arms and looking pleading did nothing this time, so Patrick sighed and chose a pair of nondescript jeans and a miniature version of his Bowie shirt: most shirts of artists he liked didn't come in child sizes, but Pete had a remarkable skill for making clothing and even planned on starting his own clothing company, so he'd made Patrick a fair few shirts in practice.

Patrick switched his own shirt while Pete rummaged for the pair of sturdy canvas shoes he knew he'd packed. He found them, wrapped in a towel suspiciously at the very bottom. Patrick, with one leg in his pants, looked up when Pete said his name, sounding annoyed.  
"Did you hide these shoes so you didn't have to wear them, Pattycakes?"

Patrick's eyes flickered guilty and Pete sighed at him. "That's kind of naughty, silly bear. You're going to have to wear them anyway, and now you get fifteen minutes earlier bedtime - if you make a fuss it's _another_ fifteen," he added, when Patrick stomped his foot angrily. "If you're really good all day I might lower it to ten. Gimme your foot please," he ordered, brandishing a pair of socks and allowing for no protests. He was really, maybe stupidly, proud of himself for managing to be strict with Patrick when all he wanted to do was give him anything he asked for the _second_ his lip started to wobble.

With a huff, Patrick jabbed his left foot out, wriggling just enough to make it difficult for Pete to get the sock and then shoe on. "'Tricky, what did I say about attitude? You want half an hour earlier? Hold still!"  
Now fully dressed, Patrick jumped to his feet and clutched at Pete's hand. "Petey-Pete, what time is it?"  
"It's two PM, baby."  
Patrick gasped, a hand fluttering delicately to his mouth. "Petey, _quick_! They're on at ten past."

Pete leaned down and hoisted Patrick onto his shoulders, poking him teasingly in the cheek when he screamed excitably, and then Pete jammed a small blue baseball cap on his head. "I don't want you getting sunstroke. Have you got your sunglasses too?"  
He didn't mention, as Patrick nodded, that it was also a convenient disguise.

"We better run, buddy."

***

  
Patrick had stayed on Pete's shoulders for the show - which was good but not really Pete's scene. He bounced up and down excitedly, informing Pete of everything he saw, and talking to a couple of other people in the audience who gave him any small opportunity to talk to them. Pete remained largely unrecognised, except by one girl and her cousin, or maybe her boyfriend, Pete didn't really catch what she was saying over the roar of the crowd - and he signed a couple of weird objects for them and then received promises not to tell anyone else in the crowd who he was.

Patrick's feet thrumming against Pete's chest, too many different conversations around him as the band fixed some kind of technical issue, a loud announcement coming from further into the ground, someone talking loudly on a phone, the rising afternoon heat, and days of not enough sleep and not enough to eat and drink slowly combined to make Pete feel dizzy and sick.  
"'Tricky, love, please can you get down a sec?" He begged, swaying on his feet, agitated at the overwhelming nature of his surroundings. Patrick grudgingly let Pete help him to the ground, just as Pete passed out.

***

Patrick had possibly never been so terrified in his life. Right before his eyes, Pete slumped to the ground like a doll and suddenly he was all alone, and Pete was probably _dead_ or something. The band had started their final song and everyone was so tall and he couldn't see anything; it was all too loud and everyone was jumping around, lost in their own world - they were at the very back of the crowd so it wasn't even like Pete had collapsed on top of someone and got their attention. Without Pete, Patrick was going to get lost in the crowd and no one would ever find him, and it would be his fault whatever happened to Pete.

He hated approaching strangers unless he was with Pete and they started the conversation first. Alone, he felt very small and very lost and very unwanted by all these people. Shaking like a leaf, he tugged the sleeve of a nearby lady. It took a lot of attempts and all his strength, plus a shouted, "Excuse me," before she started and turned around.

Her face softened upon seeing Patrick. "Oh, hello, little guy. Are you all right?"  
Patrick shook his head frantically, pointing to Pete. "N- _no_ , my... my b- my f-friend just c-"  
"Oh, hey, don't worry. Let's go see if he's okay, all right?"  
Patrick nodded earnestly. "Um. Thank you."

She smiled softly and offered her hand to Patrick. He knew about Stranger Danger but right now he was more worried about getting-lost-forever-and-Petey-dying-danger, so he took it and guided her back to Pete.

He pinched Pete's cheek and then kissed it, hissing in his ear, "Petey, Petey, wake up please, wake up wake up!"

When Pete's eye cracked open, Patrick collapsed, sobbing, onto his chest.

 

***

 

  
"Mnnghhtrick...?" Pete groaned as he realised he wasn't stood up any more. Patrick was attached to his chest and sobbing violently, and there was a kind-eyed lady who looked to be somewhere in her twenties, crouched down next to them.

"You with us? I'm Taylor. You passed out and your little friend here asked me for help," she smiled, friendly. She'd looked after Patrick, so Pete liked her.  
"Uhh... I'm Pete. Sorry?"  
She laughed. "It's okay. Here, I'll help you up. Just, um-" she glanced at the fountain of tears that was Patrick.  
Pete groaned, peeling Patrick's head away from his chest. "'Tri- um, J- _Jack_ , I'm okay. It's all right, silly bear. I'm so sorry for scaring you. It's all okay now. Can you get off, love?"  
Patrick nodded, wiping his nose and sitting back on top of his feet.

The girl, Taylor, helped Pete to his feet and Pete returned the favour to Patrick, who clutched his hand and pressed into his side.  
"Thanks for looking after him," Pete said with a smile.  
"It's really no problem. Are you sure you don't need to go to the first aid tent or anything?"  
Pete shook his head.  
"Okay, well," she offered an unopened bottle of water, "Take this, please. And maybe, um, skip whatever you had planned for the rest of the day? Stay safe!" She departed with a smile: a lot of people at Warped were on tight schedules and she'd probably already made herself late helping them.

Patrick was trembling slightly. Pete squatted to be at eye level with him. "Are you okay, Trickster?"  
Patrick swallowed and nodded.  
"Come on then, baby, we can go back and maybe have a wash and you can call your mommy, and then we can watch a DVD, all right?"

Patrick nodded in agreement. "Thank you for taking me Petey, sorry it was-" Pete rubbed a hand in Patrick's hair. "I had a lot of fun, you did a really good job."

"You do a really good job always. I- all that made me see a bit what it's like for you and it was, um. It was really scary..."  
"You did great, and I always need you to look after me." Pete pressed a kiss to Patrick's ruffled, sweaty hair and made him wrinkle his nose adorably. He beamed, smile permanently gapped right at one side where one premolar had fallen out when Patrick was really five and was doomed to never grow back.

"Please can we get ice cream on the way back?"  
Pete laughed. "You've got such a one track mind! Do you only care about ice cream?"  
Patrick frowned, looking the opposite of threatening. "That's so not true! I also care about... music. Oh, and, um, you," he giggled deviously.


End file.
